Lost Time
by BunniesOfDoom
Summary: "Do you remember what happened, Yuri?" There's a long pause before Yuri realizes that Victor is probably waiting for a response. His head is swimming. And no, he doesn't remember what happened.


**I got randomly inspired the other night, so have this random fic of Yuri P. with a concussion. It's set after Yuuri's disastrous first Grand Prix finals, but before the Worlds and Yuuri making the video. Also I realized that Yuri is maybe OOC in this, because before the face-off with Yuuri he was supposed to be kind of lazy and less devoted to skating? I don't know. But anyways, enjoy!**

 **Warning: if you don't like blood or vomit, maybe don't read this fic.**

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The first things that Yuri notices when he wakes up is that his head aches horribly and that he's freezing. He tries to wiggle his fingers a little bit, and feels cold ice under his hands. That would explain why he's so cold. But why does his head hurt?

Next, he tries to peel open his eyes just to see what's going on. He manages to open them only tiny slits before the bright lights of the ice rink make his head throb unbearably. Why is he on an ice rink? He doesn't remember coming here at all.

"Yuri? Are you awake?" asks a soft voice from next to him. It's. . . Victor? He sounds worried, but like he's trying to stay calm. Why is Victor here?

He's suddenly aware of a hand on his back and a thick dampness trickling down his forehead. He automatically reaches up to investigate, but slim fingers catch his wrist and force his hand back down. He makes a small noise of protest that just makes his head hurt even more. His stomach is churning and he just wants to know what happened.

"You have a cut on your forehead, and I'm pretty sure you have a concussion. I called an ambulance, but I need you to stay still until it gets here." Victor again.

"Don't need an ambulance," Yuri slurs, annoyed. Maybe he'll just go back to sleep and hope that his head and his stomach feel better when he wakes up.

Victor snorts, apparently disagreeing. "You over-exerted yourself and fell, hitting your head on the ice. You're going to get looked over." He says sternly. Then, more gently, "Do you remember what happened, Yuri?"

There's a long pause before Yuri realizes that Victor is probably waiting for a response. His head is swimming. And no, he doesn't remember any of what happened. He shakes his head in response, which is a huge mistake. His uneasy stomach, which has been crawling with nausea since he woke up, rebels at the movement. He has half a second to push himself off the ice on his elbows before he's lurching forward, puking.

Victor wraps one arm around his chest to support him and his other hand is on his head now, holding his hair back as he empties his stomach onto the ice. Yuri would protest, but his breath is stolen by gags and retches. After a solid five minutes of throwing up, his stomach is finally empty and the nausea is finally abated a little. He sags back into Victor's hold, exhausted and head throbbing worse than ever. The smell is awful, and Yuri wrinkles his nose.

There's a moment of silence, before Victor asks, "You still sure that you don't need a doctor?" He's trying to be playful and take Yuri's mind off the pain, but Yuri is much too tired to play along. He simply grunts in response, slipping into a bit of a daze.

He's rudely snapped out of it by Victor gently tapping his cheek. "What?" he snaps irritability.

"You need to stay awake until the ambulance gets here."

"I am awake!" Yuri snarls, not even caring that he sounds like a petulant child. After a moment of awkward silence, he sighs heavily. "Victor. Talk."

"You want me to talk?" Victor asks incredulously. He's probably thinking of all the times Yuri has snapped at him to shut up.

"If you want me to stay awake, talk. I don't care about what, just… tell your ridiculous stories and give me your useless advice. You can talk about flying pigs, whatever you want!"

By the time the paramedics arrive at the rink, Victor is rubbing circles on Yuri's back and on his wrist, deep into telling stories about his junior days in a soothing voice. Yuri is barely awake, his head sagging on Victor's shoulder.

The ride to the hospital is as miserable and nausea-inducing as Yuri had expected. He keeps his eyes shut as tightly as possible and zones out for most of the trip, except for when the sadistic paramedics begin poking at him, measuring his pulse and commanding him to open his eyes so they can shine a light in them. Yuri grumbles and protests; aren't they supposed to be helping him feel better? All that they seem to be doing is aggravating his headache. Victor, perched nearby, keeps telling him to be nice. Why is Victor even here? Yuri definitely doesn't need someone to hold his hand.

He doesn't see why they need to check for a concussion; surely, if someone as oblivious as Victor can tell, then it should be pretty obvious to a pair of medical professionals. At least they're cleaning the blood off his face and out of his hair. The dried blood had felt odd on his skin, and it's a relief to have it gone. The sensation of being cleaned up is soothing, and at last, Yuri is allowed to slip into a shallow doze.

His nap is short-lived, however, because as soon as they arrive at the hospital, Yuri is rushed to get an MRI to check to make sure that there's no bleeding in his brain, or whatever. Normally he'd be concerned, but right now he's far too tired to really care. After determining that no, Yuri is not in any immediate danger of dying, his forehead is bandaged and he's deposited in a bed.

"Who do I have to kill to get a glass of water in here?" Yuri asks waspishly, arms folded tightly over his chest. He's annoyed at being in a hospital, and further annoyed that he's wearing one of those flimsy hospital gowns. And his mouth tastes absolutely _disgusting_.

"You can just ask, you know," Victor says, sounding amused. Well, at least _one_ of them is enjoying this.

That reminds him. "Why are you even here?" he asks suspiciously, taking the glass of water and gulping down about half of it in one go. He's so thirsty, and it's a relief to get the awful taste out of his mouth.

"Be careful with that, you don't want to start puking again," Victor chides, and Yuri flips him off. Victor just chuckles softly in response, causing Yuri to scowl. "Well, I thought about calling Yakov or Mila, but I figured you'd rather be stuck putting up with me."

"Whatever," Yuri says flippantly. Victor's just here because it would be bad for his reputation if he left a skater to bleed out on the ice. It's not like he actually cares about Yuri; Victor doesn't care about anyone but himself. Growing bored with this train of thought, he tries peering over Victor's shoulder to see what he's looking at on his phone. Unsurprisingly, it's yet another article about the other Yuuri and his complete devestation at the Japanese nationals.

"Reading over someone's shoulder is rude, you know," Victor points out.

Yuri huffs. "You're still looking for that failure?" he asks incredulously. "He's a pathetic loser who should just retire already."

Victor doesn't respond, just looks back at his phone with a blank expression, but there's still a hint of sadness in his eyes. Yuri rolls his eyes, tired of Victor's ridiculous pining. "Yakov is going to yell at you. Also, you have about ten missed calls from your grandfather."

'Yakov always yells at me," Yuri says blandly, ignoring the lump in his throat that has formed at the mention of his grandpa. He'll have to give him a call when he gets his phone back. It won't do to worry the only person who actually gives a shit about him beyond his skating abilities. "When can I get out of here?" he asks, desperate to change the subject.

As Victor flags down a cab, Yuri supposes he should be grateful that Victor had grabbed his skating bag before they'd left the rink, but he doesn't say anything.

"Ah, Yuri," Victor begins tentatively, once they've settled into a cab. This can't be good news. "The doctors say that you're supposed to stay off the ice for the next week."

"What?" Yuri snaps, absolutely furious. "No way! You're just trying to sabotage me so that I can't win the Worlds and you don't have to choreograph a program for me!" He jabs a finger into Victor's chest.

Victor remains infuriatingly calm in the face of Yuri's wrath. He holds his hands up in surrender. "I have every confidence that you can win the junior Worlds, Yuri, but you're not going to win anything if you keep overdoing it like this."

After a tense moment in which the cab driver keeps shooting anxious looks at the pair in the backseat, Yuri deflates. "Fine," he mutters bitterly. "I'll go easier. But nothing is going to stop me for winning the Worlds, and I'm holding you to your promise." Victor just smiles easily and Yuri looks away. He tries to think of things to do in his week off from skating. Maybe his grandpa can come for a visit; Yuri hasn't seen him in a while. He makes a mental note to call him as soon as he gets home.

Yuri lets his eyes slip shut. One way or another, he's going to show everyone at the Worlds. This year, it's his turn to stand on top of the podium.

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 **Thank you for reading! I hope that you liked it!**

 **I love constructive criticism, so please leave a review if you can!**


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